The Tent
by bettercrazythanboring
Summary: Post-Endgame Holix smut. One-shot. Because the only other thing Endgame needed to be perfect was to make Holix kissing canon and I cannot, for the life of me, figure out why they didn't. Birthday present for a friend.


Rebecca stared up at the starry sky, arms wrapped around her knees. The large mass of leaves above her, shielding part of it from her, was glistening with the orange light from the fire next to her, practically dripping with with a cocktail of colors. It was quite beautiful to watch, she admitted, but right now, with a pair of tree roots sticking into her buttock and the uneven bark of the tree she was leaning against jutting into her back, she would have rather preferred a nice, comfortable bedroom in a hotel. Or Providence. Or a separate apartment. Or, really, anything with a mattress.

So little time had passed since her, Rex's, Six's and White's names had been cleared and they were no longer forced to hide out; she hadn't thought she'd have to go on the run so soon again.

But at least this time things were not quite so intense. The Black Knight threat was neutralized, Van Kleiss was MIA, and no EVOs were in danger of spontaneously emerging; it was just a run of the mill recon mission of Six's. She hadn't even asked what exactly he was after - she just knew she couldn't let Six go alone to a hostile land he wasn't familiar with since the amnesia and he would take no one but her.

Perhaps offering her backup services had been a bad call, she thought, trying to straighten up with little success.

"Holiday, you okay out there?" Six asked from inside the makeshift tent fashioned out of ropes, tree branches and a special military brand fabric.

"Yes, I'm fine. Just a little homesick," she said, turning away from the fire.

"Well, I know I was only at Providence a short while before Black Knight took over, but... honestly, don't really see the appeal."

"I don't just mean Providence. I mean... _people_. A society. That doesn't revolve around not getting attacked by random mutated living beings," she added. "We haven't had that in a long while, but out here it's like nothing's changed."

"You didn't have to come," he reminded her.

"Believe what you want, Six." She smiled slightly. "And it's not like I'm complaining. Just maybe fantasizing about a normal life a little too hard." She sighed.

"Then fantasize about it in your dreams," he said, finally crawling out of the tent to put out the fire. "We've got an early day tomorrow."

He still had on the loose pants of his armored suit, but his chest was bare and his shades were taken off. Holiday had never seen him this... exposed. Especially not since the accident. The Six she'd known for just under two years had never been particularly open about anything, but ever since he'd lost his memory, Six had become just layers upon layers of mystery. He didn't let anyone in, not in this world that was still so foreign to him.

So it surprised her that he'd be with her without his armor on, without any barrier to close himself off. It was a pleasant surprise, one that made her think back to a few weeks earlier when she'd thought he shared her feelings of affection. It was bittersweet, remembering the kiss that had been so real for her, yet nonexistent for him. Thinking of the shapeshifter still made her blood boil and she didn't see that changing anytime soon.

But one good thing had come out of it. It turned out believing the illusion was exactly the push she needed to admit to herself that she wanted it to be real. It had never been much of a secret that she and Six had had something between them... _before_. Anyone with eyes could see it, even reporters who were shamelessly flirting with him. Even if the two tried to deny it, it was just a simple fact they had always had that something, as confusing as it was.

Her relationship with the new Six, however, wasn't as "easy" to define. She didn't know what he was thinking most of the time and despite having certain moments, other times he simply frustrated her to no end.

And even now, when she was sure she was absolutely in love with him, whatever—year he thought it was—she still couldn't tell whether she had been in denial all this time or whether she had fallen in love anew.

She smiled to herself, chuckling a little, and picked herself up off the root seat and stretched her legs, joining him in the tent shortly.

It was hours later when she awoke with a start, chest heaving, eyes blinking rapidly, desperately trying to see something. His katanas out immediately, Six rolled over to the opposite side of the tent before she could catch her breath, ready to fend off an attack.

"Relax, Six. It was just a stupid nightmare. Go back to sleep," she said as he slowly lowered his swords. "And, frankly, I take offense that you would rush so immediately to my side. Do I look like I need protection?" She pointed to the gun next to her shoulder.

"No," he admitted, "but two are better than one in case of an ambush."

"I suppose that's sweet." She sat upright, running her fingers through her hair, trying to get a hold of herself. "But really unnecessary."

"Are you okay?" he asked, putting a palm against her forehead as if to check for a fever.

Caught off guard, Holiday could do no more than shakily nod. She had only ever touched her skin to his a few times. It always felt different than she thought it would. Hotter, due to some strange assumption she'd formed early on in their partnership that he was perpetually freezing, and also gentler somehow.

After a few seconds passed, she expected him to withdraw his hand and go back to where he'd been sleeping, but instead he moved his palm lower and cupped her cheek. She couldn't help leaning into it, no matter how many warning signals her brain gave out. He'd touched her like that once before, shortly before losing his memory.

That touch had been followed by the only kiss she and Six had ever shared.

The tent was completely dark and completely silent but for their low breathing. Neither had any more to go on than the sense of touch, yet both felt the tent fill with unsaid words, untapped potential and unfulfilled promises, thick with tension.

Her heart sped up so fast she was convinced he could hear it. To steady herself, she took her own hand and laid it upon his on her cheek, finding comfort in the simple act. She felt her hair being lightly brushed by his other hand and, in a moment of boldness, wrapped her own around his shoulder, bringing him slightly closer.

"Rebecca..." he started, voice hoarse.

"Yes?"

Instead of continuing, he leaned forward and lay his lips on hers.

At first it was only that—the pressing of one pair of lips against another: light, almost hesitant, so very clearly intended to test the waters. But when she moved both her hands to grab the hair above his collar and bring him closer, it changed. She kissed him with all the fervor that had been pent up in her for years, dragging his head back and rising on her knees. His arms wrapped around her waist, pushing her closer still as their lips fought feverishly. His fingers tangled in her tank top; her hand slid down his bare chest and ran over the muscles there.

After waiting for so long, it felt like a beast had been set loose. His hands ran up and down her upper arms, eventually wandering down to her hips and lower, pressing her up against him. She moved her knees to either side of his in response, pressing herself even closer, until somehow, on purpose or not, Six lost his balance and fell backward, taking her with him. She let out a giggle at the two of them—the most badass man in the world and one of the most adaptive and accomplished scientists of recent years—making out like awkward teenagers in the backseat of a car. And not that much more comfortable.

His lips found their way back to hers and she planted herself firmly on top of him before going down with full force. The kiss was so fiery, so full of passion anyone else would've had trouble believing Six was capable of it. But she knew him better than that, knew the kind and dedicated soul underneath all the literal and figurative armor, and it didn't surprise her in the least.

She'd always known he'd be a great lover. And it looked like tonight she'd get to prove it.

Holiday moved lower, to his neck, and started placing little love bites here and there, loving the way the skin there felt—taut, strong, unbreakable. She had never seen him bleed. Ever. It was perhaps a dangerous illusion to have, but with all the combat he did on a daily basis, it was certainly healthier for her mindset to believe it than worry about him every second of every day. Which she would undoubtedly be doing otherwise.

He flipped them suddenly, laying her gently on his sleeping bag before touching his forehead to hers for a moment, just breathing in her scent in the thick air among them. He laid one more kiss on her lips, then moved lower, just as she had, except he didn't stop at her neck. While it was certainly lovely, he had a different spot in mind.

Head thrown back, she bit her lip as he pulled her already low-cut top even lower, exposing a breast and sucking on the nipple. His tongue swirled around it, teasing and torturing her until she pushed him a little back and grabbed the bottom of the shirt, taking it clumsily off. Her lips virtually attacked his, demanding more and more as his hands massaged her newly naked chest.

Neither of them could really breathe at this point and all manner of thought had long since been abandoned, leaving only pleasure; lots of it. Wrapped together as close as humanly possible, they could feel every bit of the other; not even the layers stood in their way. He brushed her wetness over her pajama bottoms with feather-light fingers, groaning when that caused her fingers to tighten on the back of his shoulders and her mouth to moan against his. Six moved to nibble on her ear, leaving her free to make the most delicious gasps and suppressed whimpers as he kept rubbing his quick fingers over her core.

"Six." She panted. "Dammit, I can't take this much longer. Take everything off already."

The corners of his mouth turned up and his fingers traveled up, only to slip beneath the waistband and continuing the ministrations, this time slipping a digit inside her slick opening. Her eyes rolled back and her hands covered her face as pleasure flooded her system. Relishing the way a single finger could make her come undone, Six came back to her lips, wanting to taste her moans.

Her eyes opened as she wrapped her arms back around him, almost convinced she could see his expression in the dark. Or had it become lighter already? She couldn't tell, but it didn't matter. It was so rare to see him without his sunglasses—for the longest time she'd been convinced he slept in them—, but what drew her attention was his expression, the softest he'd ever worn since they'd known each other.

Pressing their lips together one more time, Holiday flipped them again, landing on top of him and dragging his boxers off as if her life depended on it. Her fingers slowly touched his fully erect shaft, earning another groan from the assassin. Her fist traveled up and down, desperate to drive him as mad as he had her, her other palm resting on his toned, slightly twitching lower abdomen. His breathing was becoming increasingly erratic, prompting her to lean down and capture the head in her mouth. His hips shot up, just half an inch before he caught himself, but it was enough to draw out an even larger amount of arousal between her legs. Something about Six losing control was just so unbearably hot to her; she worked her tongue extra hard around him just to see whether she could make him do it again.

Finally, enough was enough. Six sat upright and grabbed Holiday close, hooking his hands beneath her pants and yanking them down; a little roughly, but she wasn't about to complain. The fabric pooled around one of her ankles as she positioned herself over him and sunk down, kissing him every step of the way.

A moment passed as they got used to the feeling of being one... and then his hips started rolling repeatedly—slowly at first, but quickly gaining pace—as his mouth feasted on her neck. Holiday's head lolled back, heart beating rapidly, surely faster than was possible, and she reveled in the feel of his hands all over her and the two of their bodies tangled harder than a headphone cord.

His hands traveled farther south, gently running circles with his fingertips over her hips, causing the muscles there to contract, enjoying the way the small, dim ray of light shining in through the half-open tent entrance played with her skin. She let out a soft gasp and pressed her forehead against his, her breathing low and eyes closed, entirely consumed by the slow-burning sensations in her.

They continued to move against each other, their eyes holding intense contact. Their fingers found each other and intertwined, the beauty of the simple act overwhelming them both. They, who so rarely touched, who always put work before personal relations, who had saved each other's lives countless times, who were part of a family unit, who almost never said the things that needed to be said... Somehow they had ended up like this, entwined in every single way, and it was... well, terrifying. Amazing, a long time coming, and something both had wanted for longer than they cared to admit, but absolutely, completely _terrifying_.

He kissed her again as the sky outside got lighter and the pleasure within had built almost impossibly strong. She rode him faster and faster, hands still linked, lips still passionate, until it felt as if she could take no more. Sensing that she was close, his free hand roamed back down to push against her mound, mouth swallowing the cry she gave out as her body contorted and convulsed in tune with the flood gates opening in her.

His own orgasm followed soon after, and he let out a strangled moan, searching for her lips once more. They continued their battle of tongues while their bodies slowly calmed down, still united as one, desperate to have just a little more. Their heartbeats slowed and sweat dried, and by the time the couple came up for air, the sun was all but up and they could clearly see each other.

"Six, I..." She looked at him, at a loss for words to describe what had just happened.

"I know." His low, deep voice was more saturated with emotion than she had ever heard it. "Me too."

She laid one more gentle, very nearly lazy kiss on him and smiled. "I suppose this is where we go back to sleep and try not to think about that early day tomorrow."

"I guess it is," he said, finally pulling out of her and letting her go with one last touch. "But, Holiday," he started.

"What?" she asked, eyes soft, hair flowing over her like a dream, mouth marked with the signs of his own. He had to swallow before he could speak, as breathtakingly beautiful as she was.

"I'm not sorry I rushed over."


End file.
